A Behind the Scenes Look at the Making of Fair Haven
by CrlkSeasons
Summary: From the silly to the ridiculous and back again - a short collection of stand-alone stories. (P/T, J)
1. Chapter 1

'Behind the Scenes…' takes place before the events in the very angsty 'Violations of the MInd'.

I'm not sure how readers will respond to this set of vignettes. A complete change of pace, they are totally tongue-in-cheek pieces of fluff.

**A Behind the Scenes Look at the Making of Fair Haven**

The Silly: Why Kathryn and Seven showed up in Fair Haven and B'Elanna didn't.

Part One: B'Elanna

"B'Elanna?"

Tom Paris sauntered into engineering. His relaxed pace and his use of the Chief Engineer's first name told her staff that there was no emergency at the helm. Aside from a reckless few who were willing to risk the chief's wrath by indulging their curiosity about her love life, they quickly turned back to their duties.

B'Elanna was half-hidden behind a side console. She poked her head around when she heard Tom's voice. He had already dropped off his regular conn report. There was no reason for him to make a second visit to engineering this early in the day. The padd in Tom's hand could contain some important data, or it might be a cover for a personal visit. B'Elanna gestured for Tom to join her in the alcove so they could talk privately.

"What is it, Tom? My staff will be suspicious if you deliver _two_ conn reports in one day."

Tom smiled broadly. "Hey! Give me some credit. I'm on a break. Can't I take a few minutes out of my busy day to visit the most fascinating engineer in the quadrant? He stepped closer to her as he spoke.

Only the quadrant?" she asked dryly, observing tactics that she suspected he was using to soften her up.

Tom closed the rest of the distance between them and his voice acquired a suggestive, teasing tone. "Probably the galaxy. But I haven't had time to check out _all_ the engineers in the galaxy and I know you like me to be thorough in my research."

"Then I'll let it go at the quadrant for now." B'Elanna bantered back, resting her hand over his heart. "I wouldn't want you to strain yourself having to investigate all those _fascinating_ engineers."

He grinned. "It would be a waste of time trying to find anyone more fascinating than you,"

She tried to keep a straight face but found herself grinning back. She drew him farther back into the alcove. "I have a few minutes of my own to spare. What's on your mind besides being with fascinating me?"

"Being with you is always at the top of my list. But, now that you mention it, I do have some questions to ask about the energy requirements for a holoprogram that I'm working on."

"Tom! Not another holoprogram! What is it this time?" Captain Proton, the Sequel?"

Tom wrinkled his nose and scoffed at that idea. "No! Captain Proton's adventures are old news." His face brightened. "This one is different. It's a program for the entire crew."

"Like Sandrine's?" she asked, reminding him that he had already created a program for the entire crew.

Tom wasn't deterred in his enthusiasm. "Sandrine's was great, in its own way. This one is going to be _really_ different. It will be a whole village, lots of variety, something for everyone. I'm designing it so everyone on the ship can feel comfortable dropping by, lower deck crew, senior staff, _everyone_," he repeated.

B'Elanna sighed. She knew from experience that nothing she could say would deter him once he reached this stage in one of his enthusiasms. "So, what kind of village did you have in mind?" she asked, giving in to the inevitable.

"I've been learning about old Ireland from the Captain. She's given me lots of ideas. I want it to recreate a traditional village and include all the features found in one of those old villages. You know, cobblestone streets, a town square, a church, … a pub," he added a bit too casually for it really to have been an afterthought.

"I see. That sounds very … nice. So what did you want to ask me about?"

"Well the program would be more fun if the characters had interactive programs so they could relate to each other like real villagers."

"That's going to take some pretty complex programming, Tom, not to mention a huge amount of energy."

"I know. That's what I wanted to ask you about. I need to know how much energy I can tap into without overloading the hologrid. Maybe you could give me some suggestions about how to set up the program to make the most efficient use of the energy available."

"Why don't you just ask Harry to set it up for you?"

"I want to do as much as I can on my own. Harry's not the only one who is trying to stretch his skills. I'm going to wait until I'm done before I let him see this one."

"All right. I'll look into it for you - later. Right now I have more important work to do."

"More important? What could be more important than my holoprogram?" he asked in mock wonder.

"Don't push your luck, flyboy," she warned.

"But I like living dangerously," he countered, lowering his voice again.

She just crossed her arms and stared back at him.

"Okay, okay!" he said. He held his hands up, simulating surrender.

B'Elanna was an old hand at this game. She knew that he was merely changing strategies.

Sure enough, Tom moved on to the 'soft sell'. "Would you like to see what I've programmed so far? Say, tonight after dinner?"

"Tom," she began, slowly shaking her head. "You know I'm not into that kind of program." At his look of disappointment, she amended hastily. "Look, I love the time we spend together on the holodeck and I do enjoy your car program. But if we have to be in a crowd, I'd rather meet you in the mess hall where we're not using up holodeck rations. Why don't you just tell me about your holoprogram while we have dinner? Then we'll still have time after dinner for … other things."

He smiled even more broadly. "It's a deal."

"Your break must be almost over by now. You'd better get back to the bridge before you're late."

"I'll see you later."

"Don't be late!"

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Uh huh," she grunted skeptically.

B'Elanna watched Tom stride out of Engineering. She nodded to herself, well pleased with the outcome of their negotiations. "Leave the games and the silly costumes to the rest of the crew," she told herself before turning her attention back to the ongoing challenge of maintaining her engines at peak efficiency.

…...

Part Two: Kathryn

Tom sprinted down the corridor and made it to the turbolift in less than a minute. It was a well-practiced routine. He knew he could make it back to the bridge in time for the resumption of his shift.

Tom was a bit disappointed that he hadn't been able to talk B'Elanna into trying out his new holodeck program. But as much as he enjoyed spending time with her on the holodeck, he enjoyed their time together no matter where they spent it.

There was one lady Tom wasn't giving up on so easily. He was determined to get the Captain to try out his new program. She needed to unwind too, and her options for doing so on Voyager were limited. Tom tried to get her to relax whenever he could do so without overstepping the boundaries of rank that separated them. Okay, so maybe he fudged that line a little from time to time.

Tom smiled when he remembered how well the Captain had fit into the role of Arachnia. He never did tell her that he'd had _her_ in mind when he created Arachnia. He knew that he had made many mistakes in his life. But he wasn't about to do something _that_ stupid. Well, maybe some day. When they were back in the Alpha quadrant and she was in a really good mood. He'd tell her then. He knew she would appreciate the humor when she didn't have to spend every minute of every day being the Captain. She'd have a good laugh over it.

In the meantime, he'd gotten the idea for this new program from the Captain's interest in her Irish heritage. Once he envisioned the possibilities, he'd forged ahead with plans to develop a fully interactive village. It would be a program that everyone, including the Captain, could visit.

The turbolift doors opened and Tom stepped onto the bridge exactly twenty seconds early. He glanced over at the conn where Chakotay was standing next to Culhane.

"Not again," Tom muttered under his breath. "Chakotay, don't you know how nervous you make him when you look over his shoulder that way?"

Tom supposed that Chakotay was trying to be supportive. But Tom could see the tension in Culhane's neck from clear across the bridge. Chakotay was too intimidating a figure for the young ensign. He'd have to take Culhane aside and share some more of the stories about Chakotay and his luck with Voyager's shuttles. That should help Culhane to relax around him.

In her ready room, the Captain was waiting for Tom to arrive with his next assignment. He was cutting it close today. He was rarely actually late for meetings. He just arranged to arrive right on the dot, giving everyone the impression that he was _going_ to be late.

Tom had been meeting with Kathryn for months now. He was almost ready to step back up to the rank of lieutenant. This was one of the last assignments that she had set up for him. Their meetings would soon be over.

Kathryn was going to miss the meetings. She looked forward to reading Tom's reports and finding the jokes that he embedded in them. She enjoyed the opportunity to discuss ideas with Tom. It gave her a break from her regular routine, even if she was only exchanging her Captain's hat for that of a mentor-instructor.

A few meetings earlier, Tom had started asking her questions about Irish culture. At first she thought that this was a ploy to divert her attention from his next assignment. Soon she realized that he was genuinely interested in the subject. He'd explained that he was thinking of using an Irish village in a new holoprogram.

She'd begun to scour the ship's database. She'd located a wealth of information on architectural styles of the period. Tom had found these very useful. They'd gotten into the habit of spending time at the end of each meeting discussing his village. It had been fun to talk to someone who shared an interest in her Irish heritage.

Kathryn glanced at the pads on her desk, 'Social Structure in a Nineteenth Century Irish Village'. She hoped that this would prove to be equally helpful to Tom.

Tom entered the Captain's ready room almost exactly on the dot. He put his hands behind his back to take the formal stance he usually assumed.

"One of these days, Mr. Paris, you're going to trip on the steps and end up being five seconds late instead of five seconds early. I assume that you have your report ready for me."

"Yes, ma'am. 'Managing Waste Efficiently in a Closed Environment.' One of the more stimulating topics that I've covered so far," he commented with apparent sincerity.

"I'm not going to ask what you found particularly stimulating, Tom. So you can drop the act."

"Yes, ma'am." He let a small smile escape. He knew he'd gotten her thinking about how far he had managed to go in inserting double meanings into this report. It had been almost too easy. The topic had been a natural.

Kathryn placed his report in her imaginary 'in-box' and made a mental note to remember not to read it and drink coffee at the same time. She handed Tom the padd that she had located for him. "I found another source for you."

His enthusiasm over _this_ dry title was genuine. "This is great, Captain. It's exactly what I need. Any suggestions about what to use as models for the characters I am developing?"

"I only locate the sources, Tom. You have to do your own research after that."

"Can't fault me for trying to make the job easier. Seriously though, Captain. Any advice on what kind of people to include in an authentic Irish village?"

"Well," Kathryn conceded, sitting back in her chair. "According to my great-aunt, three staples of life in an Irish village were the priest, the doctor and the pub master. I do remember her talking a great deal about an old picture of a flower seller in a square. I don't know how important a flower seller was to life in a village. It just seemed to my aunt that she added such a beautiful touch of color to the village square with her bunches of fresh-cut flowers."

Kathryn smiled to herself and then continued. "I think that what is important to remember is that in those villages, people of varying social status, financial means and formal education mixed freely together." She looked up to see Tom looking intently back at her. She realized that he had once again managed to get her talking about her favorite subject. "Now that's enough, Mr. Paris. It's time to get back to work."

He smiled. "Thanks for your help, Captain. When the program is finished, will you drop by and have a look at it? See how it turned out? Check the details?"

"I don't have much time for holodeck programs these days, Mr. Paris."

"It would mean a lot, Captain. It's not like it's going to be a personal program. It will be open to the entire crew."

"Maybe, Mr. Paris."

"Thanks, Captain."

"I said, 'maybe', Mr. Paris."

"Thanks anyway, Captain."

"Dismissed."

…..

Part Three: Seven

A few hours later, Seven of Nine strode purposefully into the mess hall and took up a position in front of one of the tables.

"Ensign Paris!"

Seven could turn a simple statement of title and name into a demand for attention.

"What's up, Seven?" Tom was much too used to interacting with Seven to take offence at her tone. He considered it his personal duty to get her to 'loosen up' so that she could fit in and be more comfortable around the crew. He often indulged his penchant for colloquial speech when dealing with her.

In turn, Seven accepted Tom's colorful figures of speech without rebuke. She filed them away as another idiosyncrasy on his part, one more challenge to be faced in her ongoing study of humanity and its social customs.

"I wish to ask you a question," she informed him. She ignored his nonverbal invitation to sit and assumed the at ease stance that she maintained during most of her personal encounters with fellow crew members.

"I have heard that you are creating a holographic simulation that will provide opportunities for the crew to exercise their social skills. Is this information correct?"

Tom sat back in his chair and mentally translated Seven's speech into everyday language. He concluded that she must be referring to his village program. "Yeah, that's one way of putting it, Seven. Why do you ask?"

"You are aware, that I have become interested in developing my social skills. Your program may offer further opportunities to assist me in this endeavor. I wish to request permission to participate in your holoprogram. Is this acceptable?"

Tom gave her an encouraging smile. "Sure, Seven. You didn't have to ask. Everyone is welcome. Do you want to be one of the characters in the program?"

"One of the characters?" she repeated his words in order to elicit clarification.

"You know, like when you were Constance Goodheart. You could be one of the villagers, the teacher maybe?"

"What would that involve? I do not wish to be required to scream in order to assist you in saving Earth."

Tom had once persuaded Seven to try out his Captain Proton program. His attempt to get her to assume the persona of a helpless female had been a flop.

"This would be totally different, Seven. You'd only have to spend some time with the village kids in the classroom. Most of the time, it will be the weekend in the village. You can do whatever you want then. Being the teacher just gives you an identity, a costume to wear, a name to use with the other villagers."

"Spending time with children in a classroom does not sound at all appealing. I wish to further my social skills with a view to learning how to interact in _adult_ relationships."

"I see," he said and quickly reconsidered the possibilities. "Well there's no rule against turning up as yourself and just meeting the locals at the pub."

"That would not be suitable. I do not consume alcoholic beverages."

Only years of experience dealing with Seven kept Tom from giving up on the conversation at this point. "A pub isn't just about beer. It's the village meeting place. You can go there without drinking alcohol if you want. I've already programmed the bartender to drink coffee."

"That would not be an improvement. I also do not consume caffeine."

"Water then," Tom persisted. "It's the atmosphere and the camaraderie that matter."

Seven considered the information that he had presented to her. "Very well. I will adapt to the parameters that you have established for the program. Please inform me when you have completed your work. "

"Will do!" Tom shook his head in wonder after she left. What would Seven come up with next?

Still, Seven socializing in the village was probably better than some of the other alternatives she'd tried. She was such a formidable presence that she really didn't have many options for developing her social skills on the ship.

After all, what was she supposed to do, practice her dating skills with the Doctor? That would be cruel. Tom knew that the Doctor had genuine romantic feelings for Seven. It wouldn't be fair to let Seven master flirting techniques with him when she was oblivious to his true feelings.

Who else was there for her to socialize with in that way on the senior staff? It pretty much had to be someone on the senior staff. Seven intimidated just about everyone else.

Harry? Tom shook his head at the idea. He knew that any chance for _that_ relationship had already missed the boat.

Tuvok then? Seven did spend a lot of time with Tuvok. But he was not only married, he was a _Vulcan_ \- enough said there.

Neelix? He definitely counted as an unofficial member of the senior staff, so the idea was worth considering. However, it sometimes felt like Neelix had cornered the market on blondes. He and Kes were involved when the two of them first came on Voyager. He was a long-time good buddy of Sam Wildman. It didn't seem fair for him to get the inside track with Seven too.

Chakotay? Now there was an idea right out of left field!

Tom shook his head to bring himself back to reality. He picked up his padd and resumed work on his program.

…...

.


	2. Chapter 2

Note: It helps if you know that in the episode, Spirit Folk, Tom turned Harry's holographic date into a cow. When I say ridiculous, I do mean ridiculous.

"Fun will now commence." (Seven of Nine, Ashes to Ashes)

**A Behind the Scenes Look at the Making of Fair Haven**

The Ridiculous - If life is a soap opera, why does the crew need sonic showers?

"What do you think, Tom?" Neelix searched Tom's face for a clue to his verdict.

What Tom thought was that he could really use a beer right now to take away the taste of Neelix's leola-laced blood pudding. He'd had more than enough leola root lately. He'd used so many rations to set up the Fair Haven program, that for weeks now, it had been Neelix's food or nothing.

Tom swallowed carefully. "Definitely _interesting_," he said diplomatically. He placed his wooden spoon on the table and bit his lip to shut off that escape route until he could force the blood pudding down to his stomach. "Umm, it's just that it doesn't _quite_ fit what I had in mind for Fair Haven. Maybe you should stick to the original recipe."

"If you say so." Neelix's whiskers sagged in the heat of the kitchen at the Ox and Lamb. He was sure that the extra touch of leola root was just the thing to spice up this traditional dish. But Tom was adamant about keeping things in Fair Haven authentic.

"I guess I'll have to expand my culinary skills some other way." Neelix shuffled through the pages of hand-written notes that Ryan, the owner of the Ox and Lamb, had given him. None of the remaining recipes captured his attention. "Scotland is pretty close to Ireland, isn't it, Tom?" he asked. "Maybe I can try one of their recipes. I heard about an interesting dish called 'haggis'."

'Haggis' didn't sound particularly appealing to Tom. But, any food without leola root in it was a step in the right direction. He clapped Neelix encouragingly on the shoulder. "Whatever! I'll tell Ryan that you have a cousin visiting from Glasgow. Just remember that old Fair Haven saying, 'No leola is good leola'."

"I thought it was 'We're all friends'?"

"That too," Tom agreed. "If you don't need me any more, I'm going to head over to the pub for a pint of beer."

"Give me a minute and I'll join you. Why don't you wait outside where it's not so hot? I won't be long."

Neelix might enjoy standing over the hot stove in the old-fashioned kitchen. The temperature outside the inn was much more to Tom's taste. He stepped away from the building to catch the cooling breeze in the village square.

Fair Haven had turned out even better than he expected. Everything from the brightly painted shutters, to the collection of eccentric villagers, to the pub's worn stone steps, spoke of authenticity seasoned with charm. Tom took a great pride in Fair Haven. He considered it his personal responsibility to keep village affairs running smoothly. Villagers and visiting Voyager personnel sought out his help. Tom liked the feeling it gave him when people turned to him for advice.

A stir of activity over at the pub caught his attention. Some of the women on the crew were making a night of it. Lydia Anderson and Mariah Henley had just gone in. Jenny and Megan trailed in after them, with Sandra Peterson, Sue Nicoletti, Amanda Porter, and even Seven of Nine, not far behind.

Tom looked around for Harry to invite him to join the social scene. Harry was off to one side of the square, talking to Maggie O'Halloran. Tom caught Harry's eye and jerked his head in the direction of the pub. Harry shook his head. He pulled a small box of candy out of his pocket and presented it to Maggie.

Tom frowned. That candy wasn't part of the program. He'd seen Harry replicate it in the mess hall. Not only that, Maggie O'Halloran had a fiancé. Tom remembered programming him, a rather burly pig farmer with a very big rake. Now that Tom thought about it, Maggie's pig farmer hadn't been around for days. Tom did a quick memory check. Michael Sullivan's wife, Frannie, had gone missing too. What was going on?

"Seamus!"

An angry voice and the sound of running feet interrupted Tom's thoughts.

The running feet belonged to the village mooch, Seamus. He came round a corner, huffing and puffing. "Tommy Boy, Do a soul a favor will you, don't tell the missus which way I went."

"No problem. I'll just close my eyes until you're gone."

"Bless you!"

Seamus pushed Tom aside and ran past him into the inn. Moments later, Seamus's long-suffering wife came around the corner, brandishing her second-best frying pan.

"Seamus, you old fool, don't think I don't know what you've been up to. Just wait 'til I get my hands on you!"

She stopped in confusion when she didn't see Seamus scurrying ahead of her across the square. "Seamus! Seamus? Now where did the old goat get to? I thought for sure he'd head for the pub," she explained to Tom. "There hasn't been time enough for him to get all the way across the square. Tommy, did you see where he went?"

"Noooo," Tom answered truthfully, "I can't say that I _saw_ where he went. What's he done this time? Been drinking too much again?"

"You'd think that's all he would have energy for at his age, wouldn't you? He's been spending time with that blonde hussy. 'Just playing rings in the pub' he tells me. Well just wait 'till I get my hands on him, and that brazen hussy too. I'll give her a piece of my mind, and a piece of this fry pan too!"

"Maybe you misunderstood his intentions. Maybe he was just being friendly."

"Now, isn't that just your way? You may be a prankster, but you've a heart of gold, always trying to fix things for people. No, Tommy, you can't make excuses for him this time." She pushed up her sleeve and tightened her grip on her frying pan. Thus prepared, she stalked off. Fortunately for Seamus, it was in the wrong direction.

"I'm all set, Tom."

Tom turned back around to the inn when he heard Neelix's voice. "That was fast!"

Neelix fell in beside him. "I told you that there wasn't much to do." The two of them started to walk across the open square to the pub. "Would you care to join me in a game of rings?" Neelix asked.

"I thought you'd challenged the Doctor to a game?"

"I did, but he cancelled on me. He had confessions to hear."

"Oh? I'm surprised that he's still devoting time to that part of his priestly duties. He seemed pretty annoyed when I told him that confessions were confidential and he couldn't gossip about what he'd heard later on at the pub."

Neelix laughed. "He certainly _was_ annoyed! But he found out that the villagers confided more of their secrets when he stopped blabbing about them, so he doubled his hours. He tells me that he's now privy to what he calls 'all the juicy stuff'. According to him, hearing confessions in Fair Haven is better than watching a soap opera."

"A soap opera? Oh right, the programs that you and Kes found when Voyager was pulled into the past. What was the one you told me about called? 'All my Relatives'?"

"One More World," Neelix corrected him.

Tom stopped at the bottom of the pub steps, his sense of humor tickled by the idea of Fair Haven as a period soap opera. "Well, if this is a soap opera, it should have an Irish name. How about, 'Ryan's Home?"

Just then Seamus burst out of the pub, shot down the stairs and ducked around a corner. Seconds later, Seamus's wife followed on his heels, still brandishing her fry pan.

"How about 'The Over-Sexed and the Desperate'?" Neelix asked.

Tom laughed so hard that he had to hold onto the railing to keep his footing as he climbed the stairs.

Tom was still laughing when he got back to his quarters that night. Of course he'd had to come up with something to top Neelix's 'Over-Sexed' title. Sue heard them and joined in. After that, the whole pub got involved. 'The Over-Sexed and the Desperate' ended up being one of the tamer soap opera titles they came up with.

Tom pulled back the covers and climbed into bed. He'd have to share the better ones with B'Elanna. He wished she'd been there. It was a shame that Harry had missed the fun too. There was something disturbing about the fact that he'd turned down real female companionship to spend time with a holocharacter. What was even more troubling was that Tom had figured out what happened to Maggie's pig farmer fiancé … _and_ to Frannie Sullivan.

His mind was whirling and while Tom slept his thoughts tumbled and churned, melding into a jangled dream of fun house images.

In his dream Tom found himself standing outside sickbay. The door opened and he stepped into his father's office. A vase of flowers from Maggie's flower stand sat on top of the admiral's desk. In front of the vase a sign read, 'Ensign Tom, Advice to the Lovelorn'. The office door opened again and this time the Doctor came in carrying a large mailbag, stuffed with letters. The Doctor didn't say a word - couldn't actually. Thick strips of tape crisscrossed his mouth. He pushed a letter into Tom's hand, picked a flower from the vase and walked out of the room through a wall.

Tom sat down at the desk to read the letter.

_*Dear Ensign Tom,_

_I am serving on a Starfleet ship in the Delta quadrant. For the sake of privacy, I will not name the ship. Like you, I am a lowly ensign. Unlike you, Captain Kathryn did not promise me that if I work hard, I can be a lieutenant someday soon. My career prospects suck. _

_Ensign Tom, my love life sucks too. I don't know why, but a lot of the ladies I choose turn out to have poor taste in men. I found this really beautiful hologram, intelligent, athletic. She sounds perfect, right? No, she preferred Tuvok, of all people. Mind you, we found out that she was an alien who'd infiltrated the holodeck, so maybe that explains it. _

_It's hard to build a long-term relationship with any of the aliens that we meet along the way. We're in kind of a hurry and don't stay in one place very long. It's also a drag that I have to tell the Doctor _and_ the Captain if I plan to do more than hold hands, I mean, what a way to kill the mood! It's hard to convince anyone out here that a one-way trip out of the quadrant is a super idea. Did I mention that getting official clearance really spoils the romantic mood? _

_I tried dating some of the crew on the ship. No luck there either. Take the Delaney sisters for example. There are two of them, so I flipped a coin, heads or tails. It was just my luck that it landed on heads and I settled on the twin who isn't interested in me. _

_We're going to be in the Delta quadrant for a long time. I'm not sure how long because that number keeps changing, just like the number of crew on the ship. I do know that it's going to be a while before my dating options open up. _

_So anyway, I'm back to holograms again. A hologram is a good choice for a mate because she never ages. Most holograms don't go on away missions either, so she won't get killed like Lyndsay Ballard. _

_I recently met a holographic flower seller. Her name is Maggie. She's cute as a button and doesn't have wooden teeth. I deleted her boy friend in order to open up the field. I don't want to mess this up, especially since the Captain is hanging around with a holographic character too. I can see the idea catching on with the crew and spreading through all the decks. I don't want to wait and _risk hav_ing more competition for Maggie's affections. _

_How can I win Maggie and achieve lasting bliss?_

_Sincerely,_

_Ensign Harry*_

Tom muttered in his sleep and fought his way to consciousness. He rolled out of bed and stumbled across his quarters to get a glass of water.

When he had his bearings again, he tried to make sense out of the surreal images in his dream. Maybe his sub-conscious was telling him that he should step in and do something before Harry gets too involved with Maggie. Didn't Harry learn his lesson with Marayma? He should know by now that you can't find lasting love on the holodeck.

"Maybe I should delete Maggie's character?" Tom asked himself. He considered the pros and cons of that option as he made his way back to bed. "No. That's too drastic. I could alter the character's subroutines though; change her into an old man with a beard. Hmmm, maybe even a horse." Now _that _would make Harry come to his senses and realize that this was just another holo-fantasy. "Whoa, Tom," he told himself. "As the Captain once pointed out, Harry's a big boy now and can take care of himself."

But much as he tried not to be overprotective, Tom couldn't help thinking of Harry as a younger brother. "Maybe a cow," Tom murmured as he drifted off to sleep.

Colors rearranged themselves into images and Tom was again in his father's office. This time, a bunch of red balloons floated above the desk. The Doctor stomped in, shoved another letter into Tom's hand, climbed up a balloon string and disappeared through the ceiling.

Tom opened the letter and sat down to read.

_*Dear Ensign Tom, _

_According to one of the Doctor's many numbered maxims, it is incumbent upon me to inform you that I no longer intend to participate in your Fair Haven program. I have mastered all the social lessons available in the holoprogram. Seamus's wife even offered to present me with the gift of a frying pan to honor my success in engaging in casual conversation with her husband. I see no further need to continue with these exercises. _

_You may not realize that my knowledge of human emotion was limited when I came on board the ship. Pairing me with Tuvok and the Doctor, two others on Voyager with similarly restricted experience with human feelings, often served to mask my lack of expertise in this area. I believe that having the Doctor instruct me in social skills was intended to be a humorous device. I have heard this referred to as 'the blind leading the blind'. _

_I gained confidence in my social and emotional development by spending time with Naomi Wildman. Her lack of maturity and her willingness to look up to me as a role model cast my still developing social and emotional skills in a favorable light. Unfortunately, she is the only juvenile currently on board the ship. This limits my opportunities to shine as an example of mature, human wisdom – unless I wish to continue to spend an inordinate amount of time playing Kadis-kot. However, this situation may soon be remedied with the acquisition of additional under-aged companions for me to mentor. _

_You have witnessed my improved social skills on several occasions. Even though I am still frequently puzzled by the need to apologize for 'insensitive' behavior, I have mastered the art of radiating offense when my own feelings are hurt. I have been informed that it is bad form to walk away when others are trying to apologize to me. I will attempt to correct this error. _

_My prospects for romance will soon change. Despite a fail-safe mechanism in my cortical node that no one is yet aware of, I will soon remember that I once had a romantic relationship with a fellow Borg. How this is possible and why I am currently unaware of any of this would require the invention of several new technical terms. Fortunately, since it is often assumed that your preference for plain language indicates an inability to follow complex thinking, it is not necessary for me to create an explanation for you at this time._

_After I recover my lost memories, I will also recover my emotional attachment to this drone. I will, however, quickly abandon all thoughts of waiting for my lost love. Perhaps 'absence' does not 'make the heart grow fonder' after all. Instead I will choose to follow the example of others on the ship, notably Ensign Kim and Captain Janeway, and engage in a romantic relationship with a holographic character. I understand that many consider it inappropriate to use the physical parameters of a real person to create a hologram. However, since no one else complies with this rule, I see no reason to for me to do so either. _

_Meanwhile I will conserve my energy for my work and limit my social activities to those that demonstrate, in some way, that I am better at being human than the rest of you. _

_There is no need for me to hide my identity. __I am, of course, Seven of Nine, Primary Adjunct of the astrophysics lab. Voyager is now my collective. *_

_*PS: I hope that you enjoy the balloons. Red is my favorite color. __* _

Tom awoke with a start, gasping for air.

"What the? Who? Maybe? No, no, nope, nope, no!"

Tom wasn't touching this one with a nine-meter pole! He shook his head to get rid of the cobwebs, and the remnants of his dream. He pulled his pillow over his ears, rolled over and scrunched his eyes to force sleep to return as quickly as possible.

The admiral's desk was piled high with plush toy animals. Tom sat behind the desk with a huge stuffed dog on his lap. The Doctor strode in and harrumphed at Tom through the tape over his mouth. He tapped his foot impatiently until Tom pushed aside the stuffed toys and took the letter from him. The Doctor morphed into a large, stuffed peacock and flew out the window.

Tom opened his letter with some misgivings.

_*Dear Ensign Tom,_

_I am in charge of a valiant vessel that has been thrown seventy thousand light-years away from home. You can see that my command didn't start off on a high note. With so many of the crew ticked off at me for getting them stranded, my options for romance were limited from the very beginning. _

_Maybe I shouldn't have integrated the Maquis into the crew so quickly. Those rebel leathers were sexy and it wouldn't have hurt to take a month or two to get to know them better before getting tied up with protocol and the chain of command. Oh well, hindsight is twenty-twenty. Back then I still had illusions about seeing my old boyfriend again. _

_Being 'The Captain' has turned out to be a bust in the romance department. Who knew that opportunities would be so limited with a whole quadrant at my feet? There is a big problem with sexism in this part of the galaxy. Potential love interests expect me to sacrifice my job and settle on their planet - like that pleasure-seeking official with the French accent and the rather odd halo around his head. Please also note Ensign Harry's comment about the difficulty in interesting suitable candidates in a life-long, one-way journey across the galaxy. _

_There was _one_ alien who claimed that he was willing to leave his job and join me on my ship. However, I will not dignify the memory of that manipulative conniver by discussing him further in this letter. The fact that you had just been released from thirty days in the brig when we came across him, should serve to blot him from your memory too._

_Any mention of sex complicates matters greatly. When I pretended to be a prostitute in order to rescue my crew, the echoes of outrage reached all the way back to the Alpha quadrant._

_I did get to wear a slinky dress once. That was in a holoprogram. The dress was tasteless, mind you, but definitely sexy. It's a good thing that I drink my coffee black and seldom eat food. Otherwise there would have been zero chance of fitting into that costume. I have to admit that when the program started, it was a lot of fun. But then the storyline stuck me with a fiancé who was as tasteless as my dress. He was also a self-absorbed, pompous bore. _

_Ensign Tom, I've finally found what may well turn out to be my last, best chance for love. I met a charming holographic character in an Irish village. He's a bartender, but he doesn't drink. He was a bit too short and he didn't like poetry. I fixed all of that. I got rid of the wife too. I do have standards to uphold. He's perfect now. (I think it is the fact that I can't reprogram my First Officer that has sidelined that relationship.) _

_Ensign Tom, I'm still not satisfied. I'm unhappy because I could do anything I want to him and nobody could stop me. I can do that already! I can blow up the entire ship, single-handedly, any time I want. All I have to do is initiate the self-destruct sequence. It is a definite power trip. I had to stop doing it though, or the ship would not have made it as far as it has. _

_Getting back to my love life, what can I do now? Ensign Tom, I need answers. _

_Sincerely,_

_Captain Kathryn* _

_*PS When you answer my letter, remember that I'm the one who took your lieutenant's pip away and threw you in the brig. So watch it!*_

It was well into morning when Tom crawled out of bed, glad that his dreams were finally over. They'd kept getting weirder and weirder! Tom checked the ship's chronometer. It was later than he'd thought. He'd better skip the mess hall this morning.

Tom went through his morning routine, somewhat distracted by thoughts about his last dream. He wasn't as freaked out as some members of the crew might have been. He'd learned a lot about women from his friendship with Sandrine Gaspard. She was a hardheaded, competent businesswoman who ran a profitable establishment and could hold her own with unruly customers twice her size. She was also a caring, generous friend, a sensual woman with no need to prove herself to anyone.

So, when Tom looked at the Captain, he saw past the uniform to the vibrant woman who had wants and needs and was fully alive in every sense of the word. He included her in his jokes. He laughed when she gave back as good as she got. He was happy for her when she was happy. That didn't mean that he didn't get pissed with her sometimes. Those thirty days in the brig had been no picnic. But when you cared about someone, when you had a bond, you didn't cut loose just because you hit a bad patch.

Tom was okay with the idea that she might need somebody like Michael Sullivan, at least for a while. That being settled, he gulped the rest of his replicated coffee, did his last-minute uniform check and headed up to the bridge for his shift.

Several mornings later, Fair Haven was in shambles. With the ship in danger, Kathryn Janeway had done what she had to do. She put the safety of her ship and crew first. The Fair Haven program crashed when they had to shut it down without time to run the proper shut down sequence. Now, the Michael Sullivan program, the one she cared about, could be lost forever.

Tom met Harry on the holodeck. What was left of the program was up and running. The damage was obvious. The Ox and Lamb and several other buildings were sheared off like giant, back-less dollhouses. A deep gash marred the sky. Some of the village characters faded in and out. Some were gone completely. With this much damage, there wasn't much that Tom could salvage.

Harry had his own ideas about what to keep in the program. "So, are you going to save Maggie?" he asked Tom hopefully after they'd been working for a while.

"I'll try. I can't promise anything yet. A lot of people have asked about their personal favorites. Neelix put in a request for the Ox and Lamb this morning at breakfast. Once I have a full inventory of the damaged subroutines, I'll start working on a plan," Tom explained while checking over his readings. He would have done better to save his breath.

"C'mon, Tom. You know that Fair Haven wouldn't be Fair Haven without Maggie and her flower stand," Harry tried to sound nonchalant. Tom wasn't buying it for a minute.

"With that gorgeous red hair … and that cute smile …" Harry looked decidedly dreamy-eyed.

Tom added a few more readings and then shut down his tricorder. "We're done here, Harry."

"What? Oh, sure. Right! So, once you've compiled a complete inventory of the damages, you'll be able to figure out how to reconstruct the program."

"That's what I said five minutes ago, Harry,"

"Oh!" Harry said awkwardly. "Well, I'd better get ready for my shift."

Tom stayed behind and let his friend exit the holodeck ahead of him. Harry sure had it bad.

Tom took a last look around at the crackling remnants of his program. There was one other person who had a stake in what happened to Fair Haven. After watching Michael get drunk and shout his love for the Captain in front of a crowd of Voyager crewmen, Tom doubted that she would come to him to ask him to save Michael. She wouldn't do anything that would indicate to the crew that she in any way returned Michael's feelings.

Tom used to think that, of the two of them, Kathryn Janeway was the lucky one. Edward Janeway protected his family's privacy and raised his children in Indiana, far removed from the demands of Starfleet. Starfleet was a job, an occasional intrusion, not an everyday reality. Work was work and family was family, two very separate parts of life.

Now Tom wasn't so sure how lucky she really was. Out here in the Delta quadrant, Kathryn couldn't leave Captain Janeway behind her on the ship and go home to Indiana. On a ship this small, she couldn't even sit down and relax with a friend without a shipload of crew wondering what she was up to.

The Parises had a different approach to family life. For several generations, they had married within Starfleet and raised their families within Starfleet. If they hadn't worked out how to combine a personal life with a Starfleet career, the Paris name would have died out years ago. In a way, Tom's difficult family heritage was also a gift. Tom hadn't even thought about getting married until B'Elanna. But it never occurred to him to reject the idea of marriage out of any concern for Starfleet protocol.

Kathryn Janeway was trapped inside her self-imposed restrictions. Okay, so Michael Sullivan couldn't be a 'forever' relationship. What was so wrong with a 'for now' substitute? Michael was the closest that she had come in ages to setting aside her rank pips and really letting down her hair. She deserved to have a say in what happened to him.

Tom shut down the program and left the holodeck.

Kathryn Janeway was in her ready room, getting ready for the day. She was a little sad that they'd lost Fair Haven so soon. She'd enjoyed being with Michael, taking walks, sharing poetry, finding companionship with a man she cared about. For a while, she had a break from being Captain.

Over the years, Kathryn had sometimes wondered if she should have turned down the assignment to Voyager and stayed with Mark in the Alpha quadrant. Her answer to that question was always 'no'. If being the Captain of Voyager meant that she sometimes felt lonely, that was a price she was willing to pay. In the middle of this particular moment of loneliness, the beep of the pad outside her door signaled that someone was waiting to see her.

"Enter."

Tom Paris strode into her ready room with the self-assurance of a man on a mission.

"Fair Haven didn't fair too well."

Kathryn took the news stoically. "I'll inform the crew."

"Harry says that we can save about ten percent of the elements in the program. I thought you might have a suggestion or two." The look that accompanied his message was full of meaning. His eyes were warm with a tacit invitation to save as much as she wanted of Michael Sullivan's program.

Kathryn froze when she realized what he was telling her. He knew. Tom knew what Michael Sullivan meant to her just as he probably knew why she had made all those changes to Michael's subroutines.

Tom stood in front of her, waiting patiently. He didn't intrude. He didn't say anything more. He just waited.

Captain Janeway of Voyager, responsible for the Federation's farthest flung starship and for all the lives she carried on her, looked up at her helmsman, former lieutenant, now ensign, chief medic and talented amateur holoprogrammer.

Kathryn Janeway looked up at her friend and smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

Part III takes place at the end of the episode, Spirit Folk, after the sobering events in the episode, Memorial, and my story, Violations of the Mind.

**A Behind the Scenes Look at the Making of Fair Haven**

And Back Again: Last Call at the Pub

The pub was _the_ place to be in Fair Haven. The beer was flowing freely and so was the good cheer.

Tom leaned back happily in his chair. Almost everyone had dropped in for a final round - except for Seven of Nine. Tom had a weird déjà vue moment when Seven told him that she no longer felt the need to visit Fair Haven. A fragment of a dream tugged at his memory. He couldn't recapture enough to put the pieces together though. Whatever it was, it really didn't matter.

Nothing could spoil Tom's mood today, not even the fact that Harry was still miffed about that stunt that Tom had pulled, turning Maggie into a cow. In a perverse way, it felt good to have Harry annoyed with him. So many people on the ship were still walking on eggshells whenever he was around.

All that mattered to Tom at the moment was that B'Elanna had come to Fair Haven. He didn't even mind that it had taken the end of his program's open door policy to get her to come.

"Tommy boy! And who is this beautiful lady?" Seamus had made a beeline from the door to the table where Tom, his favorite soft touch for money, was sitting with a lady-friend Seamus hadn't met before.

"This is B'Elanna!" Tom announced proudly. It was the latest in more than fifty introductions he had made this afternoon. "B'Elanna, this is Seamus."

"Belle Anna," Seamus acknowledged, making the same mistake that many others had made.

"It's 'B'Elanna'," B'Elanna corrected him.

"Belle Anna," Seamus agreed, "an unusual name for an unusually lovely lady."

"Whatever." B'Elanna shrugged off his attentions. To B'Elanna, Seamus was merely a clever arrangement of photons and force fields interrupting her time with Tom. She and Tom had enough trouble carving out private time on the ship without adding the intrusions of a holographic character to the mix The best B'Elanna could muster for Seamus was to treat him as an uninvited guest at the party. She took another sip of her beer.

"Be polite," Tom urged her in a whisper. "He's paying you a compliment."

"He wants something," she hissed back.

"Tommy boy, I'm wondering if you, or your lovely lady, might have a shilling for a pint?" Seamus interrupted.

"See?" B'Elanna whispered triumphantly.

Tom stood up to draw Seamus' attention away from B'Elanna. "You don't need money today, Seamus. The first round is on Katie O'Clare. She's treating everyone at the pub."

"Oh, now, isn't that like the fine lady she is!" Seamus' praise was in direct proportion to his desire for a pint. "I'll go over and give her my thanks. After I get my beer, that is."

Tom watched Seamus cut through the crowd like a hunting dog that had picked up the scent. "Isn't this great?" he asked B'Elanna. He sat back down and waved to yet another friendly villager passing by the table.

"It's a bit crowded," B'Elanna commented dryly. She'd hoped that they would be able to talk while they were here. "Is there somewhere else we can go?"

Tom thought about what else she might like to see. "Do you want to walk up to Castle O'Dell?" he asked.

"How long will that take?"

"A few hours, there and back."

"I have to get back to work soon. Is there somewhere closer?"

Tom thought again. Then his face brightened. "Would you like to walk down to the harbor? You can see the ocean from there."

The early evening temperature was a bit chilly for B'Elanna's Klingon physiology. The harbor would probably be even cooler. But Tom looked so much like a big kid that B'Elanna couldn't refuse. "All right, if it's not too far."

Tom offered B'Elanna his arm in the old-fashioned way appropriate to the times in the holographic village. He pushed a way through the crowd for B'Elanna so they could make it to the door.

Kathryn Janeway was at a table not far from the door. The bartender, Michael Sullivan, had been sitting with her earlier. That was before the crowd at the bar got too much for Neelix to handle. Now she was alone.

Chakotay came over to join her, tilting his head at Tom who was just leaving the bar with B'Elanna.

"Do you think that promotion to lieutenant is in order now?"

Kathryn smiled in welcome. "It's 'reinstatement' actually," she corrected him.

"Ah, yes," Chakotay made himself comfortable in the chair across from her. "I often wondered how you got _that_ one past the Monean authorities."

Kathryn gave him her most innocent expression. "I _tried_ to explain to Councilor Burkus that there's a difference between a rank reduction and a demotion. But, he was right in the middle of a long rant about the conditions they wanted imposed during Tom's confinement in the brig, It would hardly have been diplomatic of me to break in on him at that point. You do remember how unhappy it made him whenever I interrupted him."

"I think the Monean authorities would be more unhappy to find out that Tom retained all the commendations he earned as a lieutenant and that his position in the chain of command will be restored once his rank is reinstated."

"Commander, are you suggesting that I intentionally misled the Moneans?"

"Let's just say that I want you to roll up your sleeves before you deal the cards, if we ever play poker."

Kathryn laughed with him. "I think the unofficial 'Mayor of Fair Haven' can stand to wait a little longer before becoming a mere lieutenant again."

Then she sighed. "It also wouldn't hurt to put more distance between the events at Tarakis and his reinstatement. The massacre shouldn't be the first thing that comes to mind when Tom thinks about the time he got his pip back. I'll send him out on a few more away missions before I tell Neelix to start baking his cake."

At that point, Harry came into the pub looking decidedly downcast. When he hesitated at the door, Kathryn waved him over. Harry sighed and walked up to her table.

"Captain, Commander," he greeted them.

"Why so glum, Harry?" Chakotay asked.

Harry shrugged to make light of his news. "I broke up with Maggie."

"Human-holographic relations getting too difficult?" Chakotay asked.

"It's not that, Commander." Harry explained, exasperated at this latest turn of events in his checkered love life. He lowered his voice. "She wanted me to leave Voyager and settle down with her. She said that if we _live with her_ _parents _for a few years, we can save enough to buy a _pig_ _farm_!"

Chakotay struggled to suppress his laughter. "She always did have a weakness for pig farmers," he pointed out.

"I hope you let her down gently," Kathryn interjected quickly.

Fortunately Harry was too put out by Maggie's demands to notice Chakotay's reaction. "I told her that it would cause serious problems for Fair Haven if I stayed here that long."

"Good thinking, Harry," Chakotay approved, manfully keeping a straight face.

"Uhhhhh," Harry sighed melodramatically, "I could use a beer about now. If you'll excuse me?" He nodded to his two commanding officers with the informality acceptable in Fair Haven. At the bar, he proceeded in his version of drowning his sorrows by ordering a half pint of beer.

Chakotay knew that Harry wasn't the only one who had a relationship with a hologram in Fair Haven. He tried to gauge Kathryn's reaction to Harry's news. "What about you, Kathryn? How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, Chakotay," she assured him. "Michael and I had a long talk. Now that he knows who I am, he understands why we can't ever be more than friends."

"So are you giving up Fair Haven?"

"Not altogether. I may come back from time to time. It's relaxing to come here, therapeutic. I still have occasional nightmares about Tarakis," she confessed "But I also know that spending too much time in a constructed reality can be a trap. At some point I'll have to let go of my feelings for Michael and just be good friends."

"You'll be all right, Kathryn. I think you've already proven that you're good at being 'good friends'."

There was something in Chakotay's tone that puzzled Kathryn. But when he didn't expand on his comment, she let it go.

"In time," she told him, "I'll arrange for a certain Miss Frannie Murphy to come and visit her aunt in Fair Haven. Once I reprogram her to have more intellectual curiosity and to share Michael's love of poetry, I think they'll have enough in common to be very happy together."

A thoughtful, "Maybe," was the only answer he gave.

Across the square, B'Elanna took in the results of Tom's programming skills with a critical eye. As far as she could tell, he hadn't missed a thing. Every detail in the village matched the period, the clothing of the townspeople, the choice of flowers for the flower-sellers basket, the worn patterns in the cobblestone. Fair Haven was authentic and picturesque, just like Tom said it would be.

B'Elanna searched Tom's face, happier with what she saw there than she'd been in a while. He was looking a lot better these days. B'Elanna knew that he wasn't one hundred percent yet. But good days now far out numbered the bad.

Someday soon they'd have to talk about what had happened between them and what that meant for their relationship. If the two of them were on Qo'noS, at this point in their relationship B'Elanna's female Klingon relatives would be poking her belly and asking if she was breeding yet. She didn't know how she felt about that. She didn't know how Tom felt either.

They walked together through the town. It didn't take long to reach the harbor. Rustic boats lined the wharf where fishermen sat mending their nets. Inside the sheltered cove, the water lapped gently at the shore. Tom had made a nineteenth century Irish port that was a haven of calm from the perils of the sea.

In contrast, outside the cove Tom's ocean was a wild seascape. Waves crashed in sprays of brilliant white foam against the line of jagged rocks that protected the harbor. They sang like a siren, enticing sailors out of the safe harbor.

B'Elanna was unsettled by the look of wistful longing on Tom's face. "Tom," she tugged at his sleeve to get his attention.

Tom pulled himself back from far away, a place of youthful dreams before so many of them turned into nightmares. "You're cold," he noted with concern. As much as he loved the ocean, B'Elanna meant more to him. She was fascinating - an exciting companion, equal to any challenge ahead of them, and his safe harbor rolled into one.

Tom took off his vest to put around her shoulders. He drew her closer to the heat of his body. After one last backwards look at the untamed ocean, he steered the two of them away from the rising wind to a worn bench in a sheltered nook. There, they could sit and watch the last of the fishing boats come in.

B'Elanna decided that this wasn't so bad after all. She still wanted to talk though. Was Tom ready to make a lifetime commitment to her? Were they ready to be a family, with the possibility of children? Sometimes B'Elanna worried about that whole idea. She wondered if her parents' marriage would have been stronger if they hadn't felt pressured into starting a family, maybe before they were ready.

B'Elanna needed time to sit down and talk with Tom. It was so hard for them to do that. This wasn't a subject that she wanted to raise over a cup of coffee. After work, they were often too tired to do much more than unwind. When they tried to arrange time off together, one or the other was just as likely to be called away for an emergency.

B'Elanna took Tom's hand in hers. "Tom," she began. But true to form, any thought that she had of getting in a private word with him quickly went out the window.

"Tommy! There you are!"

Tom shaded his eyes. "Milo," he greeted the new arrival. "What can I do for you?"

"Seamus has been telling me that you know the way to the pot of gold. I thought I might have a word or two with you about finding the treasure."

"He's busy," B'Elanna growled without looking up.

"Pardon?"

Tom studied B'Elanna's face. He pulled her even closer. "Any treasure hunting you do will have to be on your own, Milo. I've found all the treasure I need." He caught Milo's eye and directed his attention to B'Elanna.

"Oh, I see. Treasure indeed. Well, of course." Milo backed away as he spoke, encouraged by B'Elanna's unfriendly glare.

Milo had been gone less than a moment when a fisherman stopped by to greet them on his way into the village. A couple strolling hand in hand along the wharf waved to Tom as they passed. Then crewmembers from Voyager started showing up in the harbor on their farewell tour of the village. Even Harry dropped by to find out where they were 'hiding out'. They spent some time cheering him up before he wandered back to the pub.

"I think Fair Haven is overdue for a decrease in population," B'Elanna commented after their eighth interruption.

"Fair Haven is perfect, just the way it is!" Tom protested.

"I wouldn't go that far," B'Elanna blurted out before she could stop herself. She quickly amended her comment. "You did a fantastic job, Tom. It's a beautiful program. I can see why everyone loves it. It's just that, a few tweaks would make it even better."

"Like what?"

"For one thing, the shore is rugged. It's windy too. There's not much use for a bathing suit here. Warmer temperatures and a stretch of sandy beach would be nice."

Tom was tempted to compromise. The image of B'Elanna in a bathing suit, especially that blue one, was an attractive one. But he held firm. "It's a fishing village. This is what an Irish fishing village is supposed to look like."

"I know," she said smugly. "That's my point." She could tell that she was getting to him. She lowered her voice suggestively. "A different kind of program would open more … possibilities."

_That_ caught Tom's attention. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

"I think you'll find that the program I can create offers you much more than Fair Haven."

"Are you saying that you're a better programmer than I am?"

"I _am_ the Chief Engineer! You have to admit that I know more than a thing or two about holoprogramming."

"That sounds like a challenge to me! Okay, you're on. Let me know when your program is ready and I'll come and check it out."

"Give me time. After all, you had months to refine Fair Haven."

"Fair enough."

"I have to warn you, I have every intention of using _unfair_ tactics to win you over."

"Like?"

"I'm not giving away all my secrets. Just prepare yourself for a day or two of romance."

Tom was more than pleased with the prospect of this kind of challenge. They'd test out each other's holoprogramming skills and spend time together doing something that they'd both enjoy. He could foresee a whole series of romantic challenges, each trying to outdo the other. This was going to be great!

B'Elanna was also well pleased. She'd create a romantic setting - a few water activities that she knew that Tom would enjoy, candle lit dinners, walks along the beach in the moonlight. It would be the perfect way to set the mood for them to discuss their relationship and make plans for the future together.

Tom and B'Elanna began their walk back to the pub, each blissfully unaware that they were not at all on the same page in their thoughts about B'Elanna's romantic weekend. Which just goes to show that, even in the Delta quadrant, women are from Venus, men are from Mars.


End file.
